Tangle Teaser
by JCCrusader
Summary: Inspired by one old fic that was inspired by another old fic (prepare for horrible 90s websites with bad color schemes when you click on any of the links)...well, welcome to the dark side of the Internet. We live here now.


**Notes:**

Inspired by 60 minutes by Kait.

Inspired by Looking Good by Nemesiz.

This fic includes kink. Take your kink-shaming to your grandpa or go hide in a closet and weep. Kink shaming has no place here.

* * *

From where I'm sitting I cannot see the door to our bedroom, but I hear it opening and know it can only be him.

So I'm not surprised when I hear him call out a few seconds later.

"Kathryn?"

"In here."

"What are you doing?" he asks, but I don't need to answer as he steps into the doorway just then and can see for himself.

"Let me." He smiles and takes the brush out of my hands.

He loves my hair, always has and I love when he brushes it for me.

I never expected this to become a nightly ritual when he teasingly told me to remember my hundred brush strokes and I replied if he wanted one hundred strokes he better do them himself. I should have expected him to rise to the challenge.

I close my eyes and relax against the low back of the chair. He smoothes my hair back behind my ears and I tremble when his fingertips brush my ears, but I don't move. I feel the familiar tingle as the bristles move against my scalp, from the crown of my head all the way to my neck and partly down my back. I feel the scratch of the coarse bristles and the well-known pooling of arousal between my legs.

He knows better than to try and talk to me during this little ritual. He leaves me to my own thoughts and feelings until I'm ready to involve him.

I squirm a little when the bristles touch the side of my neck and glide over that one most sensitive spot. He stops his brushing and I'm about to open my eyes when I hear the whoosh of a spray bottle. I shiver with the sudden tingles and almost lose it when the soft mist lands on my exposed skin, causing my hair to stand up and a low moan to escape my throat. He works the detangled into my hair with the patience of a monk.

I'm about ready to stop him and just jump his bones, when he steps closer against my back and smoothes my hair back over my shoulder, letting it rest over the swell of my breast. I look down and notice that from his vantage point he has a perfect view down my neckline. My nipples harden against the silky of my nightgown and my tongue comes out to wet my lips. I want to stand up and climb him like a tree, but his free hand rests on my shoulder, telling me to stay and let him finish.

He runs the brush through my hair again, starting at the front of my head, moving back and around, along my neck and down the front. I gasp when the bristles touch my erect nipples through the thin layer of silk and he does it again. He doesn't even bother with the pretense of brushing my hair anymore. He just strokes the brush gently from my collarbone down my chest over my nipples. I feel my skin tighten and the single layer of clothing becomes restrictive, so I slide the straps down and let the nightgown pool in my lap.

He steps around and kneels in front of me, opening my legs so his his torso finds room between my thighs. I take one look at him and feel the desire flare up as his eyes darken with want. The muscles of my belly quiver as he reaches up and strokes the coarse boar bristles over my painfully erect nipple agin and again. It's driving me insane and I wish he'd go lower. My hands grab the edge of the chair in an attempt not to slide off and into his lap and whiten with the force of my grip.

I'm ready to scream when his hand glides up the inside of my thigh and under the hem of my nightgown. I jump slightly when his questing fingers touch my folds. He looks surprised when he feels no barrier and it's my turn to smirk.

"You're not wearing any panties," he says to me.

"I never do when I brush my hair," I reply.

He stops the motion of his other hand altogether and pulls the nightgown down the rest of the way. I lift up to let him slide it off from under me, exposing myself fully to him. His hands grab my hips and pull me slightly towards him, against the edge of the chair, barely even sitting anymore. He leans forward and inhales my scent deeply.

I sigh when his hand reaches up to palm my breast fully, warm and soothing against my sensitive skin. But when his other hand moves the brush back up and slides it over my nipple and my belly and all the way down to the V of my legs I let out a broken whimper. The feeling of the bristles stroking through my curls and against my clit are too much and involuntarily my thighs quiver closed. His broad shoulders are keeping me open to him, though, and I realize I'm fully at his mercy. He repeats the stroke and I feel my pelvis rut forward this time. The scratch of the boar bristles is bordering on slight pain against my over-sensitized clit. It's one of the most erotic things I've ever felt.

His eyes never leave mine as he finds a hypnotizing rhythm with the brush and his mouth. Scratch and blow. Scratch and blow. Scratch and blow. I'm panting hard, trying to get enough air into my lungs to keep from fainting, but I cannot keep my eyes from the display between my legs.

I feel like I should be embarrassed, but as the trembling in my thighs intensifies, my muscles straining against his shoulders, my body aching for relief, my attention is solely focussed on the center of my pleasure. His pace is maddening and I feel like I may pass out if he doesn't let me come soon.

I'm not sure if I voice that thought, but he suddenly scoots closer, opening me wider, gives me one long hot, open-mouthed blow on my clit and then brushes up instead of down, catching my clit more directly with each pass.

I feel the fire spread rapidly though my lower extremities and I can't help the jerking of my lower body against him when the explosion starts. My eyes roll back in my head and I'm pretty sure the keening wail I hear is mine. I spasm and jerk and I can feel myself jolt off the chair and slide down into his lap. I have no control over my body and as waves of pleasure wash over me, he cradles me close against his chest and soothes me back down by drawing broad circles with his palms on my back.

When I come slowly back to myself I can't help but think that my hair is probably all tangled again now.


End file.
